that morning. She’d bounced from bed five minutes before the alarm went off, the spring in her step mirroring her excitement, and after enjoying a hearty breakfast of eggs and bacon—God, how she loved bacon—she showered and donned her most professional attire. She wanted her outfit to reflect her drive and ambition and she wanted to appear confident and smart, a sharp-witted shark accustomed to swimming in a pool filled with other maneaters. Except, it took her five outfits to achieve that look and even as she stood before the mirror, she wasn’t sure if another change was in order.
She twisted to stare at her backside, fretting that the powder-blue pencil skirt wasn’t aggressive enough of a color and it made her butt look enormous. But it had a matching jacket, she lamented to herself even as she prepared to shrug out of it. Black, she thought, seizing her favorite slacks and blazer. Too austere? She didn’t want to seem as if she were going to a funeral. Piper blew hair from her eyes and stared at herself, standing in matching pink bra and panties. Well, at least her undergarments were sharp.
Finally, she was dressed—hopefully for success—and ready to leave. She grabbed her extra notebook and her camera and left for Big Trees Logging administrative offices.
But when she arrived, she was disappointed by Owen’s absence. The office was locked up tight and there was no one around to even question. She frowned and muttered something that would make a sailor proud and contemplated her next move. A deal was a deal, she groused, glancing around the deserted office. Well, if he wasn’t going to meet her, she’d meet him. She just happened to know his home address. The internet was a beautiful thing, particularly when one knew what to look for. She smiled and climbed back into her car. Owen was going to learn that she didn’t give up easily.
O WEN HAD JUST CLOSED HIS front door, harried and worried that Quinn was going to be late to school, when he turned and found Piper striding down his front walk, a determined expression on her face.
“Did you forget something?” she queried, seeming to miss the sack lunch clutched in his hand and the little girl trailing behind him as they made their way to his truck.
“I didn’t forget. Just a little busy at the moment,” he said curtly, adding over his shoulder. “No need to chase me down like the damn paparazzi.”
She scowled, obviously taking offense at the term, but she also had the grace to notice Quinn. Her frown eased and something akin to guilt flushed her face. “I didn’t know you’d still have…um…”
“Her name is Quinn,” he answered, reaching down to lift the girl into the truck. “And we’re late for school. We’ll have to table this until later.”
“Later when?” she asked, concerned. “I’m ready now.”
“Well, I’m not.” The engine of his diesel truck rumbled to life and she scrunched her nose at the sound. He glanced at her ride—a hybrid of some sort—and he resisted the urge to smirk. She probably didn’t think too highly of his truck. “Later.”
“No, wait,” she exclaimed, running after the vehicle as he slowly pulled away. “When? I need a date and time. A commitment! Owen! I swear to God I’ll run that story with all the gory details if you don’t stop this instant and talk to me instead of running off with some lame excuse.”
The truck growled to a stop and idled loudly. Owen’s brows pulled together in a harsh line. “We had a deal,” he reminded her.
How was it that he got more handsome when he looked ready to tear someone’s head off? Mainly hers as of late? She pushed that annoying thought aside and took a step his way, going so far as to stand on the running board and to get right into his face. “That’s right. We did. So honor it.”
A tense moment passed between them and she half wondered if she hadn’t pushed too far and she was a heartbeat away from getting tossed as he peeled
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